


Fall Break

by icyvanity



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: College, Domestic Fluff, Flashbacks, Fluff, Graduation, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-The Raven King, Skype, there is a single sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icyvanity/pseuds/icyvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam leaves Henrietta for New Haven, CT; he still finds his way back home, to Ronan, for his fall break from Yale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Break

Adam’s classmates chatted all around him in the moments before their final class let out—about their plans for break, lounging on their yachts and relaxing in their houses in beautiful cities around the globe.

“Where are you going again, Parrish?” one of them asked—named William or Louis or Henry, coupled with an equally rich surname.

“Back to Virginia,” Adam replied with a smile. The smile had them all suspecting he had family to visit and state dinners to attend, but they were wrong. There was only one person waiting for Adam, just outside of Henrietta, and Adam doubted there would be much formal attire involved, if clothing was required at all.

“Ah, yes! Virginia,” the man replied, clapping Adam on the shoulder as they filed out into the brisk Connecticut air. It was a very Gansey-like gesture that made Adam feel rather nostalgic for the events of the past year. Of course, Gansey was nowhere to be found among the Ivy Leagues—perhaps not even anywhere in the continental United States.

Adam split from his classmates outside his residence hall, waving as they shouted well wishes and jokes as they continued on to their own. Adam climbed the stairs—much more reliable than an original elevator from the past century—to the third floor. His room was located in the northwest corner of the floor, a location that guaranteed it was larger than the ones on either side and _just_ spacious enough to accommodate Adam and his two roommates.

Adam checked his suitcase again—already sitting packed on his freshly made bed, the result of a stereotypically worry-filled night.

“You off, Parrish?” his roommate Stuart asked from the doorway, three engineering textbooks in his hands and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses slipping off his nose.

Adam nodded. “The shuttle should be here in,” Adam said, checking his watch, “ten minutes.”

Stuart said “Ah,” dumping his books onto his bed. Their other roommate had left the previous day for his vacation home in Cologne. Neither found themselves missing him.

Adam picked up his suitcase—originally purchased by the psychic Persephone Poldma before she’d moved to 300 Fox Way, and gifted to Adam by the non-psychic Blue Sargent before she’d left 300 Fox Way—and said goodbye to Stuart. The airport shuttle was early, already waiting at the curb when Adam stepped out of the residence hall. He climbed in, making his way to a narrow seat at the back that required he balance his suitcase on his lap.

He was surprised that he hadn’t had to rationalize the purchase of a plane ticket from Connecticut to Virginia to himself, as he probably would have months before. Though Henrietta hadn’t changed in all its years, Adam’s Henrietta had. He wouldn’t be heading to the trailer park of his childhood when he returned, nor his tiny apartment above St. Agnes’, or even the recently vacated Monmouth Manufacturing; there was a place in Singer Falls that felt more like a home than any Adam had ever lived in, and there was a person there who Adam found himself missing at all hours of the day.

He smiled as the shuttle pulled away from Yale, settling in for the hour drive to the airport. His Henrietta _had_ changed; he finally had a reason to go back.

* * *

_The tension in the air refused to dissipate under the burning heat of the sun as the day went on. Adam had packed and re-packed the BMW enough times that he eventually had to force himself to step aside for fear of losing his mind. Ronan sat on the asphalt outside of St. Agnes’ rather than helping Adam, understanding that this was something Adam had to do for himself; there was nothing positive Ronan could contribute, so he sat idly and sipped a luke-warm beer._

_When he finally spoke, he did so quietly—so as not to startle Adam. “Do you want to check Monmouth again? I haven’t moved anything since they left.”_

_Adam turned to face him, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He was hyperaware of his appearance in the glaring brightness of the Virginia sun—an old pair of coveralls and a t-shirt, both soaked through. He hadn’t wanted to ruin any of his Yale-appropriate outfits, but he didn’t feel at home in his own skin in these clothes. So, he didn’t completely understand the reverent look in Ronan’s eyes or the flush of his skin. What was there about Adam Parrish to make a man look like that?_

_He said, “It’s worth a shot.”_

_Ronan heaved himself to his feet, brushing Adam’s fingers with his own on his way to the driver’s side. Adam threw himself into the car, and he wasn’t even buckled in before Ronan was pulling away with a screech of tires. He didn’t look back at the church, even considering he wouldn’t be returning to his apartment; though it had been his residence for months, St. Agnes’ never felt like home. Adam wasn’t quite sure where he belonged, but he hoped it was somewhere better than being hidden away in a broom closet._

_Ronan broke only a handful of traffic laws on the way to Monmouth, getting them there in a reasonable time. He parked the car beside the Pig—the original one, not the engine-less copy that Gansey, Blue, and Henry had taken to travel the world—and they got out of the car. Monmouth was quiet without Gansey’s voice, empty without his presence. Ronan’s room still held some of his things, but this had never been his home either; Gansey was the only thing about this place worth coming back to._

_Adam busied himself with searching among Gansey’s things and the remnants of Ronan’s for his own belongings; unsurprisingly, he found none. He heard the fridge open, along with a groan from Ronan._

_“Sargent left some yogurt in this fridge, and it went_ bad _,” he called out. Adam chuckled._

_Ronan wandered back out to Adam, one hand carrying a black garbage bag disdainfully. He glanced around. “Find anything?” he asked._

_Adam shook his head, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Ronan nodded, and they left. Monmouth felt off without Gansey—dead with its dust-covered books and unfinished mini-Henrietta and pristine bed. Adam climbed back into the BMW while Ronan threw the garbage bag at the dumpster from a car-length away; he heard him whoop with glee as the bag sailed home._

_“The Barns?” Ronan offered, though he knew Adam wouldn’t find anything there. He’d started packing weeks before, getting increasingly more anxious and temperamental as his first day loomed closer._

_“There might be something,” Adam agreed, though he knew it too._

_Ronan played his thrumming music quietly as Adam stared out the window; he wouldn’t have heard it even if Ronan turned it up loud enough to echo down the empty highway. Neither spoke a word on the way to Singer Falls, not even when they turned onto the drive. Ronan pulled the brake, and they just sat there for a moment._

_“Fuck, it’s hot,” Ronan said finally, jumping out of the car. Adam was slower in opening his own door and following Ronan into the cool, air-conditioned house._

_The Barns was a home, one unlike the double-wide or the tiny church apartment. Perhaps not his home—perhaps not yet—but everything about it was integral to the Lynches. Everything served its purpose, and the house lacked the flashy entities of the Ganseys and their friends. He checked the living room first—though Ronan avoided it entirely; he hadn’t set foot in the room since he saw his mother dead in his dreams there. It was the one place in the house that Adam hurried to escape from, still able to see Aurora’s blood staining the couch._

_Ronan found a better selection of food here than at Monmouth. When Adam made his way to the kitchen, he found Ronan standing at the counter eating cold pizza right out of the box._

_Adam raised a brow; Ronan held up a slice. “Want some?” he asked._

_Adam accepted the pizza, settling against the opposite counter and staring out the window at the rest of the Barns. He realized he was tired as he watched a herd of deer exit the forest, nibbling on the lush grass. Tired of what, he wasn’t sure. He loved the Barns, and Yale was a dream come true; his future couldn’t get any better. Perhaps he had just exhausted himself with preparations over the past few days. Adam decided that was it._

_He realized Ronan had gone still, one hand gripping the counter so tight his knuckles were white. Adam saw something black drip onto the soggy cardboard._

_“_ Ronan? _” Adam asked, alarmed, and reached for Ronan. Ronan flinched away, hands fumbling at the drawers until he had pulled out a knife, turning on Adam. Adam stayed where he was with raised hands. “Ronan, it’s me. It’s Adam,” he said calmly. It tore at his heart, but he had seen this before._

_Ronan’s eyes came open; when he realized where he was, and what he was doing, he dropped the knife; it clattered against the black splatters on the tiled floor. He raised a hand to his nose, where the blackness was oozing from, and rubbed vigorously at it, smearing it across his face._

_“Fuck—” he choked out, eyes fixated on his stained hands. “I’m so fucking tired of this.”_

_Adam reached for him, covering Ronan’s hands with his own. Ronan looked up at him with pained eyes._

_“Fuck, Adam. I’m so—”_

_“Stop,” Adam said firmly, pulling Ronan’s hands up to his lips; he brushed kisses against Ronan’s knuckles, which had returned to their natural color. “It’s not something you can control.”_

_He doubted anyone had ever survived being unmade before, so there weren’t many sources of the side effects of it. Ronan was cursed with somnambulism now, often finding himself in the fields with Chainsaw on his chest if Adam hadn’t woken to stop him, and he had episodes where he was thrown into nightmares in both the waking world and his dreams—nightmares of being unmade again, black streaming from his orifices and all._

_Adam pulled him to the bathroom down the hall, nudging Ronan until he jumped up on the counter. Adam grabbed a black washcloth from one of the drawers and ran it under the water. The blackness defied natural laws, drying and not drying simultaneously on Ronan’s face; Adam wiped it all away. He cleaned Ronan’s hands, though his fingertips remained lightly stained._

_“I’m sorry,” Ronan said again._

_Adam gave him a sharp look. “You weren’t pulling a knife on me, and I know that. You can’t tell in a nightmare.”_

_“I could’ve hurt—”_

_Adam cut him off, “Well it’s a good thing we don’t keep any weapons in the bedroom, or perhaps we would have a problem.”_

_He pulled out a bottle of iodine, pouring some onto the washcloth. It removed the final traces of the stains from Ronan’s hands; they caught Adam’s as he moved away to put the bottle back._

_Ronan wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I guess I’m going to have to figure out how to do all this by myself,” he said quietly._

_Adam set the bottle down, wiping his hands on his coveralls before reaching out to Ronan; he tilted Ronan’s head up, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Hey,” Adam said softly, “Connecticut isn’t that far. You can always drive up to visit me. And I’m just a phone call away. I’ll be back in a few weeks.”_

_Ronan laughed bitterly, “Are you sure you even want to come home to_ this? _” Ronan gestured wildly to the washcloth and the iodine in the sink, and to himself._

_Adam frowned. His hand slid to cup Ronan’s face, the other grasping Ronan’s. He kissed Ronan like it was something he wanted to do every day for the rest of his life—and it was. Adam wasn’t always the best with words, so he pressed up against Ronan with all his love, hoping Ronan would understand. Adam wasn’t going to leave him. He pulled back and Ronan had to stop himself from chasing after Adam’s lips._

_Adam waited for Ronan’s eyes to open before he said, “You’re the only person I want to come home to,” and it felt like a confession; it was the truth. Ronan dealt in harsh truths and Adam was slowly learning the language of them. Ronan searched his eyes before he smiled—a lazy, beautiful thing that made Adam’s heart stutter in his chest. He still didn’t believe that he could do that, make someone look that happy._

_He could see the words they’d never said shining in Ronan’s eyes, though he desperately tried to shove them back down. Adam looked right back at him, as though daring Ronan to say the words first. He wasn’t cruel, but part of him wanted someone to tell them they loved him before he was even sure of it himself. Sometimes, though, it took every ounce of self-control not to say it; Adam was too afraid he was reading Ronan wrong, and that he would scare him off and ruin everything._

_“I’m going to miss you,” Adam said instead, wrapping his arms around Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s found their way to his waist, pulling him closer still._

_“Aw, Parrish. You’re going to make me blush,” Ronan said. Adam cuffed the back of his head and Ronan scowled. He mumbled, “I’m going to miss you too.”_

_Adam chuckled, pulling Ronan in for another kiss. They still had a day left before they were driving up to Connecticut in the BMW, and Adam was going to make the most of it._

* * *

There were many pros to traveling with only a carry-on. Less time before the flight spent weighing and re-weighing luggage to ensure it fit the air line’s requirements. Less time after the flight waiting as the conveyor belt brought luggage around for years before yours even made an appearance. Adam walked off the plane with his suitcase in hand, following the signs past the multitude of fast-food chains and the Duty Free and the dreaded luggage claim, until he made it out of the airport.

It took a short escalator ride to make it down to the public part of the airport—where couples reunited and soldiers received standing ovations and applause. Adam found himself looking around, trying to spot a glimpse of familiarity among the crowd. He still hadn’t located his destination when he reached the bottom of the escalator. The crowd shifted for a moment, and there he was.

Adam felt a smile on his face as he made his way towards him. Ronan looked the same as ever, except perhaps more joyful—though the expression looked different on his face than it did on anyone else’s. His smile was sharp as Adam broke through the masses, but he was at ease. In one hand he held an impossibly blue rose, very possibly pulled from a dream. Adam didn’t stop walking until he was standing before Ronan, setting his suitcase down.

Beneath his smile, Ronan looked worried; as though he thought the events of the summer to be a dream, and he had been forced to wake up too soon. With Ronan, that was always a possibility.

When Adam reached for him, the uncertainty faded. His surprise was ever-present when Adam kissed him. They kept the kiss soft and languid; they had nine days together, and they could do more when they were alone.

Ronan pulled away, but his hand curled around Adam’s. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Adam said, truly smiling; the infrequent static-filled phone calls and more frequent skype calls with Ronan were nothing compared to having Ronan right in front of him.

“Here,” Ronan said, shoving the rose into Adam’s other hand. Adam realized, as his eyes flitted between the flower and Ronan, that it was the exact hue of Ronan’s eyes. _Something to remember him by when I leave_ , Adam assumed, barely suppressing a scoff at the thought; like anyone could forget Ronan Lynch. Ronan tugged on Adam’s hand, only pausing so Adam could pick up his suitcase again before dragging him out of the airport. He had left the BMW idling just outside the door, with a fancy permit shining in the window; Ronan winked at Adam’s questioning look, confirming he had dreamt it as well.

When Adam opened the rear door, he was greeted with squawks from Chainsaw and Opal, sitting side-by-side in the backseat. He smiled, handing his suitcase to Opal, who set it down at her feet.

“Cover your eyes,” he said. Opal shoved both hands against her large eyes, effectively hiding them. Adam produced a lollypop—shaped strangely like the state of Connecticut—and held it in front of her. “You can open them,” he said.

Opal squawked again with glee, grabbing for the candy. Once it was safely in her hand, she looked back and forth between it before reaching for Adam; he leaned down to hug her, patting the back of her skull cap. When he pulled away, Chainsaw was giving him a betrayed look; Adam held up his fists. Chainsaw knew this game, and deliberated before tilting her beak towards the right one. He opened it—nothing. She made an angry sound deep in her throat, pointing her head to the other hand. It was empty as well.

She blinked at him until he laughed and a ribbon was suddenly in his hand, as though it had been there all along. Adam held it out to her, rubbing her head with one finger as she tore into her present. When Adam ducked out of the car, Ronan was staring at him fondly from the other side, cheeks pink and eyes wide.

“Magician,” Adam said, pointing at himself. Ronan shook his head, rolling his eyes as they both got into the car. Ronan pulled away from the curb in his usual fashion, with a screech of tires, the faint smell of burning rubber, and surrounded by horrified older faces. Surprisingly he didn’t flip a single one off, his hand safely beneath Adam’s on the gearshift.

As they sped towards Henrietta, Adam watched Ronan. He hadn’t changed in the weeks since Adam had last been with him, or in the day since they’d last skyped. His hair was only slightly longer than it had been the previous year, covering his head in a layer of dark velvet. His tattoo clawed its way around his shoulders, though Ronan’s dark shirt covered most of the extrusions. The sun danced across his sharp jaw and cheekbone, throwing the rest of his face into vicious shadows.

His lips quirked up at Adam’s observation of him, and Adam found himself smiling as well. Adam glanced at the road spread out before them. “Where’s my car?” he asked.

“Some thugs stole the tires off it over at Monmouth. Looks like you’ll just have to drive this while you’re here,” Ronan said too innocently, color appearing on his cheeks.

“Fuck you, Lynch,” Adam said. He knew how much Ronan liked to see him drive his car; the theft was clearly done by Ronan, and the wheels were probably collecting dust in the middle of mini-Henrietta.

Ronan’s hand jerked out from under his, clapping over his mouth. “Watch your language around the children, Parrish,” he hissed, jerking his head toward the backseat. His eyes narrowed when Adam flicked his tongue out against his rough palm, before his focus was on the road once more and his hand back in its place beneath Adam’s.

They didn’t go straight to the Barns, and Adam shot Ronan a confused look as they turned onto Fox Way. Calla and Maura were waiting outside—perhaps because they were psychics, perhaps because a time had been decided on prior, perhaps because Calla claimed she could sense when snakes were near. Ronan stopped the car in front of them, rolling down Adam’s window.

“Snake,” Calla said by way of greeting; Ronan bared his teeth at her.

Maura opened the back door and leaned in to unbuckle Opal and Chainsaw. The latter flew out to circle above the BMW.

“You’re not a _vulture_ ,” Ronan yelled up at her out of his own window. She made an indignant noise and flew down to land on Calla’s shoulder. Ronan shouted, “Traitor,” as Calla laughed at him.

“How are you, Adam?” Maura asked as she shut the door.

“I’m well, ma’am,” Adam said, noticing the rigid set of Ronan’s shoulders in his peripheral vision at the slip of his honeyed accent. He smiled up at her as Opal reached out to him; she gave him the stub of the lollypop stick. The rest, he assumed, she had ingested on the ride over from the airport. She ran over to the other side of the car to give Ronan a hug, and Adam saw how he righted her t-shirt, whispering something in her ear before pushing her back toward Maura.

“A snake and a magician,” Calla said in a carrying whisper. “Who would’ve thought?”

Maura pointedly turned Opal away, starting up the walk so that Ronan could flip Calla off. Calla returned it, and held it up even as he drove away. He started on the familiar road to Singer Falls, and Adam found himself watching Ronan again.

“Any particular reason you want to get me alone so badly?” Adam asked with a grin. “Planning to murder me?”

Ronan snorted, “Obviously.”

Adam reached out to trail his fingers up Ronan’s arm; Ronan shivered. “You’re sure,” Adam asked, “it’s not anything else?”

Ronan clenched his jaw. Adam hummed and he gave in. “I can think of a few things,” he said.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Adam said, taking his hand back, satisfied.

* * *

_Adam was afraid. Not of something people would expect, like his father’s drinking or Gansey’s imminent death or Ronan’s unmaking. All of those had past, leaving him to worry about trivial things that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Right?_

_Which is why he had been staring down at the envelope for the past twenty minutes, his hands curled into fists on either side of it. He hadn’t touched it since he’d brought the mail in, and he wasn’t sure he was ever going to._

Yale Office of Admissions _, it said in the upper left corner._

_Adam didn’t have the time to procrastinate this; he had work in an hour, and Ronan was supposed to come over in just a few minutes to quiz him for his upcoming French test. His fingers twitched, but he made no move to open it._

_“Adam?”_

_That was Ronan, stomping up the stairs and through the door. Though Cabeswater was dead, Adam still felt it sometimes in the air;_ Greywaren _, the scattered remains of it whispered in his deaf ear. Greywaren, Adam agreed. Ronan Lynch never felt completely tangible, even when his hands were on Adam’s arms and his chin on Adam’s right shoulder. Son of a dreamer and a dream, he never felt quite real._

_“Hey,” Ronan said, lips pressed behind Adam’s ear._

_“Hey,” Adam breathed out. Ronan nuzzled along Adam’s jaw until he saw what was in front of him._

_“Is that—” Ronan asked, cutting himself off. Adam nodded. “Shit,” Ronan said._

_“Shit,” Adam agreed. He made no move to open it, and he felt Ronan move away; Adam saw him settle down on his bed a few steps away, waiting._

_Adam knew that he had other options if the letter wasn’t an acceptance to the university. He’d already received letters from Dartmouth and Cornell accepting him, but Yale was different. Yale was the hazy, far-off dream that kept him working overtime at all of his jobs, scraping enough money together to hang onto Aglionby by a thread. He’d endured his father’s anger and his mother’s impassivity for the singular hope that one day he would get to Yale—that one day he would make it in the world._

_Adam took a deep breath; Ronan held his own. Adam unclenched his fists, picking up the envelope. It seemed far too thin to contain anything at all, neither a rejection nor an acceptance. He tore it open carefully, pulling out the papers._

Dear Mr. Parrish _, the first one read_ , We are pleased to inform you that you’ve been accepted into the—

_Adam’s heart was about to beat out of his chest. He read the first page twice before setting it down next to the envelope. Adam knew better to get his hopes up before he read that they wouldn’t give him a dime._

Dear Mr. Parrish _, the second page read, mirroring the first. Adam read this as carefully as the first, his hands starting to shake. The words didn’t make any sense; it was almost as if the demon held his eyes again._

_Ronan stood up when Adam started blinking vigorously. He knelt at his side, cupping Adam’s face with his hands. He didn’t speak, didn’t trust himself to say something that would hurt Adam. So, he just waited._

_Adam took another deep breath. “I got in,” he said. He looked at Ronan through his lashes, “They gave me a full ride—tuition, room and board, all of it.”_

_“Fuck, Adam,” Ronan breathed, an honest-to-God smile spreading across his face. “I knew you could do it.”_

_Adam set the letter down carefully, turning to Ronan; he pulled Ronan into his arms, holding him tight. “I did it,” Adam said._

_Ronan pulled back, retracting his hands to rest on Adam’s shoulders. Fierce pride shone so strongly in his eyes that Adam felt a pang in his heart. He’d wanted to escape Henrietta—his father, the people who didn’t believe he’d amount to everything, his friend’s inevitable fate—but now he had something here. He wanted to leave, to see the world and all it had to offer him, but he wanted to come back to Ronan, to_ this _._

_“Ronan—,” he started, but the words stuck in his throat. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, but Ronan knew him better than anyone._

_One hand pulled Adam down to rest his forehead against Ronan’s. “We’ll figure it out,” Ronan said. “I’m not going to ask you to stay.”_

_“I’ll come back.”_

_Ronan smiled as viciously as the day Adam first met him. But, his sharp edges didn’t scare Adam anymore; they were deceiving, and anyone who knew Ronan well enough knew that they existed to protect, not to harm. That smile was a comfort to Adam, and his words were as well._

_“I know.”_

* * *

Adam woke with Ronan wrapped around him; they were pressed back to front, Ronan’s arm wrapped loosely around his waist. His nose was pressed up against the knobby top of Adam’s spine, and his steady, sleepy breaths tickled Adam. Adam turned his head to hide his smile, though not even Ronan could see him. How did someone like Adam deserve something like this in his life? Being able to wake up in the arms of the person he loved, in a place that had bad memories—but had been overrun with the good ones—with light filtering through the blinds and the birds chirping outside the window.

Ronan shifted, his arm tightening around Adam. He was waking up, his dreams safe from nightmares, and the world empty of anything he could bring back. The nightmares snuck up on him, but they crept into his dreams more easily if he was on edge. Though they hadn’t done much when they got home—other than making dinner together and eating it in bed, in front of the TV, before falling asleep—Ronan had been exceptionally happy the day before, and it was enough to protect him from his mind for the night.

Adam felt Ronan’s first waking breath, sending shivers through Adam’s entire body. He felt the vibrations of Ronan’s voice more than he heard him as he mumbled, “Morning,” into Adam’s back. His hand was splayed across Adam’s bare stomach, fingertips pressing into the lean muscle there.

“Sleep well?” Adam asked. Ronan hummed in response. His fingers wandered down a bit, brushing against the fair dusting of hair leading into Adam’s boxers. His lips brushed Adam’s neck, the feeling of them intensifying that of Ronan reaching into his pants. Adam wasn’t hard yet, but it wouldn’t be long now, what with the familiar touch of Ronan’s fingers enveloping him.

Ronan nipped at Adam’s ear. “What do you want to do today?” he asked, feigning innocence over his actions. “We could go for a drive, visit the cows, cook something.”

“You’re a shit cook,” Adam said, rolling his hips back against Ronan’s.

“ _Hey_ ,” Ronan said, a little breathlessly, “I helped with the pasta yesterday.”

“Is that why it was overcooked?”

“You were distracting me.”

Adam pulled at Ronan’s arm, rolling over and propping himself up over Ronan. He lowered his hips, just enough to grind his erection against Ronan’s hip. “How about now?” Adam asked, “Am I distracting you now?”

Ronan didn’t lie; even if he did, his body would have betrayed him. His chest was heaving with the effort of his breaths, coming out in sharp pants. Adam hadn’t even touched him yet, but he was already so affected. Was it like this with everyone? Did other people—normal people, people who weren’t a magician and his greywaren—get to feel this? Adam glanced down at Ronan’s sweats; he noted with silent satisfaction that there was a distinct bulge, and a patch darkening on it.

“Yes,” Ronan whispered. Adam’s eyes trailed up to see his own desire reflected in Ronan’s eyes. He reached into Ronan’s sweats, reverently watching Ronan’s eyes shut and mouth fall open with a stuttering gasp. Adam smiled at him. “Get down here,” Ronan breathed, releasing the sheets from his fist and pulling Adam to him.

Kissing Ronan was as he would expect and a complete shock, at the same time. Ronan never put enough effort into schoolwork or into his relationship with his brother, but he was completely dedicated to the things he loved—the things he believed in. He didn’t believe in anyone as much as he did Adam Parrish, and his lips got that message across. They were chapped against Adam’s—he clearly hadn’t dreamt himself any lip balm, though he sent six different flavors in a care package the week after Adam left—but Adam was addicted to the rough slide of them. Ronan’s fingers carded through the hair at the nape of Adam’s neck, faltering when Adam twisted his wrist, rubbing a thumb over Ronan’s tip.

“F- _fuck_ ,” Ronan stuttered out, his other hand fumbling for purchase in Adam’s hip; he pulled Adam completely on top of him, groaning when he fully felt Adam against him. He opened his eyes, blue boring into blue as they locked onto Adam’s. “Fuck me.”

It wasn’t really a question; Ronan knew Adam would do most things for him, especially something like this that caused them both so much pleasure. The first time he’d voiced this request was a slow day in February. They’d been snowed in— _snow_ , in Virginia (the entire county shut down as soon as there was an inch on the ground)—and they’d both wanted it for so long that the question was barely out of Ronan’s mouth when Adam said yes.

Adam smiled now, pulling his hand out of Ronan’s sweats; Ronan whined, but cut off when Adam’s hands trailing up his bare sides sent him shivering. He leaned over Ronan to grab a condom and a bottle of lube out of the bedside table. Ronan’s eyes followed his hands as they dropped the items onto the comforter and reached for Ronan’s pants. He knew he was being agonizingly slow, untying the useless strings at the front, pulling them down inch by inch until Ronan was able to kick them off. Ronan was already hard between their stomachs, and he held himself back from grinding up into Adam’s.

“Come _on_ , Parrish,” Ronan groaned, and Adam laughed.

He reached for the lube, slicking up his fingers and sliding one into Ronan. Ronan bit his lip, shifting around the much-wanted intrusion; he enjoyed it, but his own fingers were nothing compared to the feeling of Adam inside him. Adam paused as Ronan’s eyes scrunched shut, waiting until he adjusted and nodded at Adam.

Adam added a second when Ronan was ready, stretching him open. He crooked his fingers for a moment, finding that spot inside of Ronan that sent him arching off the bed, choking out curses. He reached down to tug at himself while Adam continued his ministrations, but Adam batted his hand away.

“Let me, Ronan,” Adam said, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tip. The air left Ronan when Adam swallowed him down; the combination of it and Adam’s fingers already inside of him were almost too much. Adam added a third finger, stretching and sucking until Ronan was sufficiently prepared before pulling away.

Ronan’s brow furrowed at the loss, eyes coming open to watch as Adam tore open the condom and slid it on. His hands, which had threaded themselves through Adam’s hair, drifted down to tug incessantly at his hips.

“Someone’s impatient,” Adam said, a little breathlessly, as he lined himself up.

Ronan smirked, “What can I say? You’re pretty hot, Parrish.”

“I knew you were only in it for my loo—is that a _miniature Gansey?_ ” Adam demanded, pausing and cutting himself off incredulously.

“ _What?_ ” Ronan demanded, glancing over his shoulder at the cluttered bedside table. “Oh, yeah; I thought someone should get to live in mini-Henrietta.”

“That’s adorable. Are you going to dream miniature me and you and Blue and—”

“Parrish, I swear to God. If you don’t fuck me, I’ll—”

Adam grinned down at him as Ronan broke off with a gasp at Adam pressing inside. His hands scrambled for purchase in Adam’s bony hips, nails digging tiny crescent-shaped marks into the freckled skin there. Adam panted as he canted his hips forward again and again, seeing his own pleasure reflected on Ronan’s shining face.

Adam loved this, if he was going to be honest; around Ronan, he had to be. He almost uttered the words that played on his mind then, but the moment seemed off. The press of himself into Ronan, their bodies flush against each other, breaths shared between open-mouthed kisses—it was like an addiction to him. But, he knew he could live without it. The words were stronger than that, meant more than that; it was Ronan he truly couldn’t live without, no matter how much that frightened him. For now, he was fine with worshipping Ronan the way he deserved.

“ _God_ —Adam!— _ah,_ ” Ronan panted. He reached for Adam’s hand and Adam knew he was close. He pressed Adam’s fingers to his lips, hot stuttered breaths coming out unevenly against them until Adam curled them into his mouth. Ronan cried out around them, painting their stomachs white; Adam’s hips only snapped into him once more before he was following Ronan over the edge.

They lay side by side, sated and catching their breath for a while after. Ronan raised up a hand, grinning at Adam; Adam rolled his eyes, but high-fived him anyway.

* * *

_“Ronan Niall Lynch, I swear, if we’re late because you refused to use your phone to get fucking directions around this detour—”_

_“Relax, Sargent. I went to this school for years—”_

_“—I will be perfectly fine with explaining to Gansey and Adam and Henry where you are. You’ll be in a ditch, that’s where you’ll be.”_

_Ronan sighed, lifting his hips out of the seat to reach into his back pocket; he tossed his phone into Blue’s lap. She picked it up and began typing slowly into it._

_“Don’t you dare,” she said, though he hadn’t been planning on speaking. “Not everyone was born with one of these in their hands.”_

_“_ TURN RIGHT _,” the GPS said after a moment, and Blue grinned triumphantly. Ronan chuckled, but followed its directions all the way to the school._

_Blue looked out the window in grudging awe as the passed through the front gates. Ronan pulled into one of the last spots in the crowded lot, setting the parking break and glancing over at her._

_“You ready, Sargent?” he asked._

_Blue hesitated; these were the boys she had sworn all her life were bastards, and to the most part, they were. Yet, she loved Gansey and Adam and Noah and Henry, and even Ronan sometimes, though he’d dropped out of school months ago. She sat up straight, smoothed down the skirt of her dress, and bared her teeth at Ronan._

_“Lets’ go rock their damn world, Lynch,” she said._

_Some of the families looked up in horror as the two of them strutted past. Blue’s hands tightened into fists at her sides, fighting against her better judgement to flip them off. She was walking fast to keep up with Ronan’s long strides, swishing the bright green fabric around her legs. Ronan wore his leather jacket and jeans, his black boots stomping past the gaping parents. Blue had wrestled him into a tie back at Fox Way, but it had come undone by the time they reached Aglionby’s pristine field._

_Usually the Aglionby soccer team played scrimmages out here—Skov, bloodied and grass-stained, sprinting and kicking alongside his teammates—but today, it was to be used for the graduation ceremony. Boys in their dark caps and gowns were already sitting on their bright white folding chairs, and their parents and sisters had begun to take their seats in the rows lining the aisles._

_“Blue! Ronan!”_

_They paused at the sound of their names, turning to a radiant Helen Gansey striding purposefully toward them._

_“I’m so glad I caught you,” Helen said as she reached them, looking at their faces instead of their attire—unlike the rest of the people milling around. “Mom and Dad asked me to find you; they saved seats if you wanted to sit with us.”_

_Blue glanced up at Ronan. She had been prepared to dislike the Ganseys—as she was rather distrustful of the privileged on principle—and for them to dislike her—as she didn’t look like a Mrs. Richard Campbell Gansey III in the fishnets and oversized polo she had been wearing at the time. But, they did what they were known for—they accepted her. Blue still didn’t trust them completely, as she hadn’t trusted Gansey completely for months, but she saw that Ronan did._

_She plastered a smile onto her face and looked back to Helen. “Lead the way,” she said._

_The Ganseys had worked their eloquent magic into securing front-row seats for the five of them. They embraced Blue before she sat down between Ronan and Helen. The president of Aglionby stood up, and the students and parents quieted down, taking their seats._

_He told what was sure to be a memorable speech—filled with inspiring personal anecdotes and calls to action for the future of Aglionby boys—but Blue and Ronan quietly thumb-wrestled under the hot Henrietta sun until he sat down. The next man got up, this time to read out the students’ names and they both sat up straighter in anticipation._

_Blue didn’t recognize many of the names, besides a few of Gansey’s old crew teammate and Tad Carruthers, who Ronan bared his teeth at as he ascended the stage._

_“Henry Cheng.”_

_Blue and Ronan clapped, the former more vigorously than the latter; they saw a woman they guessed to be his mother standing a few seats away and clapping just as hard as Blue, and she gave Ronan a once-over as she sat down._

_The names continued until—_

_“Richard Campbell Gansey III.”_

_Gansey ascended the stage with the grace of the king he was, amid cheers from his peers and teachers. Blue, Ronan, and the Ganseys were all on their feet as he strode across the stage to accept his diploma. By the time he reclaimed his seat, there wasn’t a person left sitting._

_There was a pause as everyone sat down again, adjusting graduation gowns and tassels. The man cleared his throat before continuing, passing Jiang and the moment of silence for Kavinsky—though he hadn’t particularly been a star student—and then—_

_“Adam Parrish.”_

_“ALL RIGHT, PARRISH!”_

_“GO ADAM!”_

_Ronan and Blue’s shouts were answered by Gansey and Henry’s among the students, along with a fair few from all around them. It was nothing like Gansey received, but for once, Adam didn’t seem to mind. The Ganseys and the two of them had jumped up, and some of the other parents mirrored them. Blue saw Ronan clapping so hard she thought he might break his wrist, with an expression of such fierce pride that she felt she understood him more than ever before. Adam shook the man’s hand, and Ronan let out another whoop._

_It took until halfway through the next name before Ronan quieted and sat down. There was another moment of silence, this time for Prokopenko. No one else received a complete standing ovation, though Skov parading across the stage riled up the entire soccer team, and Swan following him received what they assumed were shouted Polish obscenities—knowing Kavinsky’s former pack of dogs—from Skov and Jiang._

_The president stood up again at the end, much to Ronan’s chagrin, and reiterated what he’d said before the graduation commenced. As soon as he spoke his last word, the graduates all yelled and threw their mortar boards into the air into a dark cloud that only slightly resembled a flock of ravens._

_Ronan and Blue were out of their seats before anyone else, telling the Ganseys they would see them in a few minutes. They made their way out to where the graduates were exiting to._

_“Gansey!” Blue shouted as she spotted him, and Ronan lost sight of her as she utilized her short stature to weave through the crowd. He saw a flash of green and followed it until he found her again, lifted off the ground in Gansey’s arms. Henry stood beside them, grinning at Ronan  until the woman he’d seen earlier pulled him away from them._

_“Congrats, Dick,” Ronan said as they released each other, and he pulled Gansey into a hug. He looked elated, which he should be; after all, he’d expected to die months prior. He never thought he’d make it to graduation, yet here he stood. “Have you seen—”_

_Ronan broke off as he saw Adam, moving through the crowd with the strange agility that came with binding oneself to a mystical dream forest for a year._

_“Parrish,” Ronan said, and Adam looked up. He looked wary, both hands fidgeting with the diploma he held. He let go with one hand as Ronan approached, and Ronan pulled Adam towards him. Adam wrapped his arms over Ronan’s shoulders, gripping his leather jacket with his free hand as Ronan held his waist just as tightly._

_They heard the Ganseys arrive distantly, as though everything around them had faded away. Ronan pulled away, but only far enough to cup Adam’s cheek with his hand as Adam respectively dropped his hands to Ronan’s waist._

_“Adam,” he said softly,_ proudly _, his thumb swiping along the soft skin there, “I am so proud of you.”_

_Adam grinned; the smiles that had graced Adam’s face in the early months of senior year were nothing compared to the expression he wore now. He tugged at Ronan’s jacket, pulling him into a kiss. Neither of them could stop smiling, so it was a messy bashing of teeth, but they were both too elated to mind._

_“Look at you, Parrish. Graduating high school, top of your class. Yale-bound in the fall. The world’s going to eat you up,” Ronan said with a sharp grin of his own._

_It was that moment that Blue Sargent decided to make her appearance, jumping onto both of them. Gansey joined them, wrapping his arms around his friends—and partially supporting Blue, whose height did not mix well with the six-foot shoulders she was currently hanging off of. They could all feel the hole in their group, the one that Henry couldn’t fill, though they’d made room for him elsewhere._

_“He never got this,” Blue remarked, her frown dampening the previously jovial mood._

_Gansey loosed a sigh, one that reminded the other three of the weight he carried on his shoulders. Noah had completely vanished the day Gansey had died and come back from death—_ again _—and neither Blue nor the psychics at Fox Way could detect his presence._

_“He would have been proud of us,” Gansey said._

_Their hug was infinitesimally tighter, reminiscent of Blue’s graduation the week before—in which she became labeled as an even larger hypocrite as not one, but_ four _raven boys cheered her on as she walked across the stage with determination, and not one, but_ four _raven boys embraced her afterwards to the disdain of her classmates._

_Even after they released each other, Ronan kept an arm around Adam. It was a steady reassurance that he was there, he was proud, they would be alright while Adam went off to conquer the world and Blue, Gansey, and Henry traveled it._

* * *

“Sargent says there’s wifi.”

“Well the call isn’t going through.”

“And this is my problem, _how_?”

Ronan dodged the grape Adam threw at his head, coming up behind him to rest his chin on Adam’s shoulder. He reached into the bag to grab some fruit of his own just as a grainy shot of Blue appeared on the screen.

“Blue!” Adam said. “Can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear,” she replied, grinning. The image cleared a bit, and they could see the details of the room around her; there was definitely a forest rising up outside of the open window behind her, and the breeze blew wisps of her short hair around her face.

“Ronan!” They heard Gansey shout before he was in the frame. “Adam!”

He sat down beside her and a moment later they were joined by Henry, who jumped onto the bed behind them. They wore matching sweaters, all advertising the Redwood National Forest. Blue seemed to have acquired more barrettes in her travels, and both Gansey and Henry were sporting them as well. Gansey’s wire-rimmed glasses were almost at the end of his nose, and she reached up to push them up; he smiled widely at her and pressed his lips against her temple.

Henry sighed dramatically from behind them. “Ah. Young love,” he said, pressing a hand against his chest. They all laughed.

“How’s California?” Adam asked, and Blue grinned.

“It’s _amazing_. We went to a wildlife sanctuary yesterday, and it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, gushing; Henry and Gansey nodded in unison. “How’s Yale?”

Adam and Gansey skyped every other week, but Blue usually stayed away from what she called their “bro-bonding”. He told her about his classes, his jobs, his extracurriculars. He could feel Ronan’s eyes on him, and he glanced over only once; the look in Ronan’s eyes wasn’t wistful, as Gansey’s expression was. He looked content with the fact his boyfriend lived states away, went to a pretentious institution, and still worked his ass off. In some strange way, that made Ronan happy. Adam realized, as Blue chewed him out for not joining the activism club sooner, that this was how it was supposed to be.

“I’m slightly offended you didn’t ask about me, Sargent,” Ronan said when there was a break in the conversation, holding a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. “I’ll have you know I’ve been very busy growing a variety of fruits and squashes—”

Blue cut him off, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Lynch. Do tell us about your squash.”

Gansey and Adam both groaned as Ronan grinned. Blue’s face was a mask of horror by the time Ronan made it to the chorus of the murder squash song. Henry glanced between all of them as if it could explain what was happening to him.

When Ronan finally ended the song, Blue pulled her fingers out of her ears. “Remind me to never ask him about his life ever again,” she said to Gansey; Gansey nodded somberly.

* * *

Adam awoke with a start, squinting up into the darkness at the figure looming over him.

“What the _fuck_ , Lynch?” he asked; if he had seen Ronan’s face, he would have blushed at the reaction the full force of his accent caused.

“Ice cream. We need ice cream,” Ronan said, shaking Adam’s shoulders.

Adam groaned. “Can’t you just dream some up?” he asked, shoving Ronan off of him. Ronan hit the floor with a thud and a groan, and Adam saw his middle finger raised even through the darkness of the room. Adam sighed, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “ _Seriously_ ,” he said, but swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He put on the hoodie and jeans that Ronan passed to him, only slightly conscious of the fact that they didn’t belong to him. He let himself be led out of Ronan’s room, down the stairs, and outside to the car, without any more complaints. Ronan opened the passenger-side door for him— _like a gentleman_ —and Adam only shot him a muted glare; Ronan laughed.

Ronan seemed to be driving at a normal speed—very different from his usual, law-breaking one—so as to not irritate Adam further. He drove them to the closest 24-hour store, pulling into the empty parking lot and parking a distance from the door. He opened Adam’s door again, and Adam got out and walked toward the store with crossed arms. He followed Ronan into the frozen aisle, rubbing his thinly covered arms. Ronan held up the mint chocolate chip carton.

“No,” Adam said.

He put it back and held up the Rocky Road.

“No.”

He held up the Moose Tracks.

“That one’s fine.”

Ronan piled four cartons into the cart; he’d known Adam’s favorite flavor, but knew it was better to let Adam choose for himself. The cashier regarded them sleepily, ringing up their items at a pace that made them antsy to leave. Once they did, they walked out into the dimly lit parking lot.

“Parrish,” Ronan sang, looking between him and the cart.

Adam felt the adrenaline singing in his veins, but he narrowed his eyes. “Really, Lynch?”

Ronan grinned, pressing closer; his teeth grazed Adam’s throat, and Adam shivered. “Come on, Parrish,” he murmured. “It’ll be fun.”

Adam moved the ice cream bags to the back and climbed into the cart. Ronan began pushing him towards the car, the muscles in his legs straining as he sped up. Adam felt him jump onto the back of the cart, and they booth whooped with glee as the BMW loomed closer. As usual, Ronan didn’t seem to be stopping. The cart glanced off the side, jolting them as it flipped onto its side.

They lay by side on the ground for a moment, catching their breath. Adam looked over at Ronan and found him already looking back; he felt his heart skip a beat at the fondness in Ronan’s expression. Adam leaned over and pressed his lips to Ronan’s. The kiss was soft and languid, both of them comfortable to keep it that way. When he pulled away, he watched Ronan’s eyes come open.

Adam heaved himself to his feet and reached down to pull Ronan up. They retrieved the ice cream from the cart, and got back into the car. Ronan kept spoons in the glove box for this very reason, so Adam pulled one out and opened one of the cartons of ice cream.

The backwoods of Virginia were serene in the early hours of the morning. Even Ronan didn’t dare disturb it with the thrumming bass of his music. Adam watched him as he ate, offering spoonfuls every so often. Ronan looked content and Adam realized he was as well; he belonged at Yale, with the intellectuals and the people making something of themselves, but he belonged here too—in this car, in this town, with the boy he loved.

He wasn’t fully conscious of what he was doing, his voice acting almost of its own accord. He cleared his throat, dropping the spoon into the container and putting it back into the bag.

“Hey,” he said softly, trailing a finger up Ronan’s arm. Ronan glanced at him, and Adam held his gaze as he said, “I love you.”

Adam was afraid Ronan was going to stall the car. He was frozen, still looking at Adam with wide eyes.

“Ronan,” Adam said, nodding towards the road. Ronan swallowed visibly, shaking his head before turning back to the road.

Adam wasn’t sure what he expected to happen the first time he ever told someone he loved them, but he expected something more than the loaded silence of right now. It was fine if Ronan didn’t feel the same, or wasn’t sure just yet, or couldn’t say the words ever; he just _thought_ —

Ronan pulled into the driveway of the Barns. He turned off the car, and they just sat in dark silence until he moved. He turned toward Adam, reaching out to take his hand in his own. Ronan traced the veins and the bones in the dark, the jut of his thumb—in the dark, as though he had memorized the shape of them.

He took a deep breath, looking up into Adam’s eyes. “I-I’ve loved you for so long.”

He didn’t voice how long, but the tone of his voice buried itself deep into Adam. He remembered the events of the past year, how Ronan’s open animosity of their first meeting morphed into the complete trust of now. When Ronan kissed him, almost a year before, Adam knew this was something serious—he knew it was something he needed to be sure of.

He was never sure of someone like he was Ronan.

“I love you,” Adam said simply, again.

Ronan smiled shyly at him. “I didn’t want to scare you away and say it too soon,” he said.

“You couldn’t scare me away if you tried,” Adam said, honestly. He had seen Ronan at his best, at his worst, at everything in between. He’d seen him at his weakest—in mourning, _unmade_ —and couldn’t think of anyone stronger. Ronan wore his ink and his shaved head, his sharp smiles and feral grins, like a warning, but that wasn’t the truth; they were really there to scare people away, to keep them from getting close enough to leave.

He had let Adam in, and Adam was never going to leave.

* * *

_Boyd’s was closed over the Fourth of July weekend. So was the factory, and all of the other places of Adam’s employment._

_“We can celebrate your birthday,” Ronan said, nuzzling against his neck, the two of them laying in Ronan’s bed, tangled together._

_“We don’t have to do anything,” Adam argued quietly. He was used to his birthday being regarded with disdain by his parents, if not ignored completely in favor of the holiday sales on booze. The only presents Adam had ever received from his father were bruises that had him wearing sweaters in the middle of Henrietta summer._

_Ronan sighed, rolling onto his back. “Too late; Sargent knows when it is this year and I believe we’re both required to attend a party in your honor with the psychics. I believe they’re grilling.”_

_Adam forced down his anxiety and chuckled. “What, is my present watching Calla barbeque you?”_

_Ronan flipped Adam off and Adam covered Ronan’s hand with his own. They lay in silence for a few minutes, listening to the crickets outside the window and the faint music coming from Opal’s room. There seemed to be something playing at the edges of Ronan’s mind, but Adam knew he would voice the thoughts if he could; there was no point in asking._

_“I have a present for you,” Ronan said suddenly, sitting up so fast that he pulled the sheets completely off of Adam. Adam reached to pull them back over his body as Ronan scrambled off of the bed and over to his dresser across the room. Adam watched him root through at least three of his drawers before he pulled out a plain pair of socks. He settled himself at the end of the bed, directly in front of Adam._

_“Isn’t it a bit early for presents?” Adam asked, glancing over at the clock—which read 11:56. “You can’t wait four minutes?”_

_“Well,” Ronan said carefully, “I know you aren’t the biggest fan of presents. But, I can assure you that I spent no money on this.”_

_“You dreamt socks for me? How nice of you,” Adam replied dryly, sitting up and reaching for them. Ronan pulled his arm back out of Adam’s reach, ignoring the scowl Adam sent his way._

_“It’s in the socks, you dumbass.” Ronan unfolded the socks between them, and they both watched as something silver fell onto the sheets._

_Adam tried to keep his hands from shaking as he reached for it; it was a key. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the cool metal against the warm skin of his palm._

_“It’s for the Barns. You know, when you go off to college—you might need to come back here for some reason. I thought this was easier, in case I wasn’t home. Not that I would rather be doing anything than seeing you, just—”_

_Adam had found out over the past few months that Ronan rambled; if Adam didn’t reply, he could talk for a lot longer than anyone expected._

_“You dreamt me a key,” Adam said. Ronan fell silent._

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_Ronan may have listed enough reasons, but Adam knew they weren’t the real ones. Ronan took a deep breath._

_“You have a home here, if you ever need it.”_

_Adam had never valued the word_ home _, but if it was here, with Ronan, then he was willing to start. He pulled Ronan towards him, one hand creeping into Ronan’s short hair as he pressed his face into Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan held him, and they were silent until Ronan spoke._

_“Midnight. Happy Birthday, Adam.”_

* * *

Waking up from a dream was disorienting enough, in itself. Waking up to a small, pale humanoid jumping straight onto you? That was a bit far out of Ronan’s expectations for the day.

Yet, Opal hurtled herself at him at the speed of a bullet, screeching “Kerah!” loudly enough to wake not only everyone else in a 3-mile radius—fortunately, the Barns were built anywhere near the rest of civilization—but also Adam Parrish, who had been sleeping peacefully beside Ronan. They both bolted upright, smacking their heads together and against Opal’s simultaneously.

Opal didn’t seem affected by the collision, but it sent Ronan cursing up a storm. Adam fell back onto the bed, holding his face.

“Well that looked painful,” a voice said from the doorway; Adam spread his fingers to see Matthew Lynch, in all his golden goodness, standing at the bottom of the bed. “Hiya, Adam.”

“Hi Matthew,” Adam whispered, covering his eyes once more.

“Happy birthday Ronan!” Matthew said excitedly, pulling his brother into a fierce hug. Ronan’s face was still scrunched up tight with pain, but he held onto his brother tight.

“How the f—how did you get here, Matthew?” Ronan asked, catching himself.

Matthew pulled back to smile down at his brother. “Calla drove me. Said it would be nice for Opal and I to surprise you.”

“Of course she did,” Ronan muttered, quietly enough that Adam was the only one to discern his words. Ronan swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Well, I can make breakfast since we’re all here.”

Matthew pushed Ronan back onto the bed with a hand on his chest. “No you won’t. You can’t cook on your birthday. What would mom say?”

Ronan’s smile faltered at the mention of his mother, but didn’t resist Matthew. “Alright. But don’t burn down the damn house.”

Matthew laughed, “You worry too much, Ronan.”

Opal waited until Matthew left the room before she held her hands out to Ronan. When he mimicked her, she dumped shiny rocks and strange objects—more than she should’ve been able to carry—into his hands. She hugged him too, before cantering out of the room after Matthew.

Ronan looked through the objects for a moment, before carefully dumping them onto his bedside table. He settled back against his pillows and glanced over at Adam, who was being suspiciously quiet.

“You called Calla, didn’t you?”

Adam shrugged. “You really should check the call log on your phone sometimes. I’m going to go see if they need any help.” Adam made it to the edge of the bed before he paused. He shifted back over to Ronan, and cupped Ronan’s face in his hands. He said “Happy birthday” quietly, after he pulled away from the kiss.

* * *

Ronan had dreamt something the night before—something that could wake the cows, the mice, _everything_. Ronan had never felt so happy as he did on his birthday, which had been made complete with slightly burned food, Blue, Gansey, and Henry skyping with party poppers, a less-awkward-than-usual phone call from Declan, and records from Niall’s collection that Adam and Ronan slow-danced to long after Matthew and Opal had fallen asleep. He hadn’t expected to dream at all, let alone bring something back when he woke up that afternoon.

Adam hadn’t even seemed worried when Ronan woke up, though he had been sitting up beside Ronan in bed with a pillow balanced in his lap, waiting.

 _“What’s that?”_ he had asked, looking into Ronan’s hand.

It was nothing special, physically; it looked like nothing more than a blue hose nozzle. But, Ronan had a _feeling_ that this was it. He’d finally done it.

They were standing in one of the barns that dotted the Lynch lands, one filled with only cows. Ronan had connected the nozzle to the hose, but was still as he faced the animals. Adam watched him from the edge of the room, where he’d placed himself to stay out of the way; Ronan’s eyes were closed, and his mouth moved for a moment—perhaps one last, silent prayer. He twisted the nozzle and sprayed the first cow.

Almost instantly, the cow’s eyes flickered opened and it gave a great moo. Ronan’s face was a mix of joy and disbelief as he sprayed the next, and the next, and the next. Soon enough, there was an entire herd of waking cows, ones that Ronan realized hadn’t eaten since the day his father was killed. He ran over to the barn doors and threw them open, jumping out of the way just in time to avoid the stampede.

Ronan looked happy—even happier than he had looked the day before, surrounded by the people he loved most in the world. Ronan’s sharp edges hadn’t become dull in the months of the past year, but Adam had learned his way around them to his heart. Looking at Ronan then, with the sun reflecting off of his bright eyes and impossible smile, Adam felt he was the happiest he had ever been too.

But, that couldn’t last forever. He saw something in Ronan’s eyes as he joined him at the entrance to the barn—something hard and cold and unwelcome.  

“I just wish—” Ronan began, but he cut himself off, running a hand through his close cropped hair. He took a deep breath and tried again, “Maybe if I had realized sooner then she could wake up too. Here, in the real world.”

 _Aurora_.

“Ronan,” Adam said, pulling Ronan’s hand away from his head, “that wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have _known_.”

Adam pulled Ronan toward him; Ronan went willingly. Adam pressed his lips to the side of Ronan’s head and whispered, “You couldn’t have known. None of us could have.” He felt hot tears on his bare shoulder, held Ronan tighter.

They didn’t go back inside until the sun had set.

* * *

Adam left Henrietta and the Barns behind as peacefully as he had arrived; however, instead of an uncomfortable airplane, he was sitting in the passenger seat of the BMW with his feet up on the dashboard, scrabbling at the radio against Ronan with all his might.

“Hands—on—the— _wheel_ ,” he grunted, trying to force Ronan’s hand back to no avail. They were almost upon New Haven, and Ronan had popped a tape in for the last hour of the drive. It was simply the murder squash song on repeat. “ _Ronan_ —”

“Adam Parrish, you really are no fun,” Ronan said, shoving too; he was more successful, and Adam fell back into his seat with a scowl. Ronan was made weak by that look and compromised—he turned the radio down two notches.

“I hate you,” Adam said, crossing his arms over his chest; Ronan scoffed.

“Sure you do.”

The tape ended just before they pulled up in front of Adam’s dorm, thankfully; Ronan’s car and general self were enough to draw eyes to them as they got out.

Neither Stuart nor Robert—Adam’s other roommate—had arrived back from break yet, so Adam brought Ronan up to his room. His portion of the room—his bed and his desk—were rather simple. His only decorations were a collection of pictures from the summer; he’d taped them to the wall above his desk, and Ronan grinned at them. He pointed at a selfie of Blue and Gansey.

“Wasn’t this right before I slammed a pie into her face?” he asked.

Adam snorted, “I believe it was.”

Ronan sighed dramatically. “Good times,” he said.

Ronan was staying the night before driving back to Henrietta, which left him ample time to intimidate everyone on campus into liking Adam. He glared down every student, professor, and janitor who so much as frowned in Adam’s general direction.

“They don’t have to like me,” Adam said, rolling his eyes after Ronan had sent a stout old professor running with the strength of his gaze.

“That’s what you said about Aglionby, too, if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Well it’s true. They don’t have to like me, or anyone else here,” Adam said. He glanced around at the quad. “But,” he continued, “they are going to have to get used to me. The only place I’m going is up, and they’ll have to accept that eventually.”

“Damn _fucking_ straight,” Ronan agreed, grinning proudly at Adam.

“Well,” Adam said, pressing his lips to Ronan’s jaw, “maybe not that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [read on tumblr](http://lady-gryffindor.tumblr.com/post/148606734173/fall-break)


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